Into Broken Glass
by PadfootLives394
Summary: When Daniel finds Luce again, her life sucks. Her father is abusive. Her mother committed suicide. When she comes across Daniel, she doesn't trust the way she feels towards him. And she can't shake the darkness. Rated M for violence, drug use, sexual scenes and cursing. Takes place just before Gabbe and Molly died in the last book.
1. The Storm

**Author's Note: **This is sort of a new idea for me. I've pretty much only written absolutely_ horrid _Twilight fanfictions. So I'm giving it shot to try a new story. I don't want to continue it if it's not worth continuing so I'm leaving this little snipet here, and I need your feedback to tell me if you like it so far. Or if it isn't really enough to base an opinion on, I can post more. Thanks! :) -PadfootLives

**Disclaimer: **Characters and details of the story belong to Miss Lauren Kate.

I gagged and fell backward out the front door, tearing my keys from the keyhole as grunting and moaning echoed from the epicenter of the house. I could still hear them through the door. They didn't even stutter as the small, rickety house shook with the force of the front door slamming. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

_How did I not expect this?_

Heart pounding I turned on one heel and booked it down the weather worn sidewalk of Port Drive, eager to be away from there. That house was my own personal hell, about fifty percent of the time. I wasn't entirely sure why I returned every day.

The air was humid, warm, with a hint of rain. Very uncharacteristically warm for Maine.

I smiled sadly at the sky, my nose tingling with tears _I would not cry_. No matter how sad I was, or how hard life would become. I hadn't cried for years, I wasn't about to begin today.

The air only got muggier as I walked into town, passing by all of the familiar shops and tourist traps that I'd known for years. Girls stood around, laughing in their little eyelet church dresses, peering up at the sky, waiting for a drop of rain. An elderly couple strolled up and down the cobblestone block, without a care, not sparing a glance toward the sky. I smiled. Nothing could touch them.

I threw up my hood, feeling a large splatter on my cheek, the heavy gray clouds-after holding up all day-finally opening up into a heavy downpour.

I jogged in and around puddles, hearing those girls shrieking in delight, and when I looked back the girls danced in circles, the flowery fabric of their dresses sticking to their skin and the elderly woman was tugging the man under an awning. He resisted laughing and with a great heave, pulled her into his arms. He kissed her deeply and tucked a silver strand of hair behind her ear.

I blushed, feeling intrusive for staring, and spun back around, continuing my wet trek toward the library.


	2. Poison, my little Dove

**Author's Note:** Alright, well, I decided that little snipet wasn't enough to really get the idea. So I typed this up from my notebook. Chapter one folks! Tell me what you think and whether it's worth continuing, because I will. I just need the motivation!

**Disclaimer:** All characters except a few and the basic story belongs to Miss Lauren Kate

I stood, dripping, under the small awning in front of Gablestown Library. Droplets of water clung to my eyelashes and I blinked them away, trying to shake off as much water as I could before heading inside.

The library was an oddity in town. It was peculiarly built, and the first thing to be seen when you walked in was the fountain placed in the center of the entrance hall. The fountain was a rusty copper color and about the width of a love-seat The entire building was of decent size, with two large rooms on the first floor-the sun room and the entrance, which held the single staircase- and on the second floor was the large study area and where the majority of the books were held. The outside appearance of the library was deceivingly rickety and classic, but the indoors held just the opposite. It was all mahogany and classy lighting, apart from the sun-room which was pastels and maybe a single lamp.

I breathed in the old book smell and dewy aroma that the fountain seemed to exude. I stood still, at peace, letting the silence envelope me, then, moving by instinct into the sun room, I collapsed into a light blue, floral couch on the far side of the room. Large droplets of rain spattered on the window, making tiny rivulets on the glass. There was a muffled thump from upstairs and I looked up at the ceiling. A tiny mist of dust made the air filmy.

I shook my head and peered out the window to my right, watching a dove fight its way through the downpour, the rain soaking in, like water on wool, and weighing down it's wings. It gave several strong heaves, rising a minuscule amount, and plummeted to the ground. I didn't thing, I just stood fast, ready to save the poor thing.

The scene made my heart ache painfully, for what reason I couldn't concede.

I felt along the glass wall, searching for the latch to the door. I smiled slightly as my slender fingers located the niche in the window border, just next to the couch I'd been sitting on. The glass door gave a loud groan as I dragged it back and ran headlong out into the rain.

The spot of white lay still, a beacon in the swampy grass. I stumbled and fell to my knees next to the bird, my knees soaking through instantaneously. I swore and scooped it into my palms, feeling it twitch slightly. I sheltered it under my hoodie, tucking it into the crook of my elbow. I jogged lightly as I could, back to the glass door, and swore again when I found it closed. The exit was one way, unable to be opened from the outside. It was the most unhelpful emergency exit I'd ever encountered.

The only reason I even knew of it's existence was from childhood curiosity. Every time my parents would fight, I would hide out in the library. The sunroom was like my safe haven, which was also why I never was afraid of the night, save for the darkness that followed me everywhere.. I would read, or draw or just simply day dream about what my life would be like if my parents had stayed together, and when all of that grew to tedious I would explore the nooks and crannies of the room. One night, very late on Christmas Eve, my parents were butting heads for the fifth time that week. They didn't even spare a glance as their eight year old daughter disappeared out the front door.

That night, the pretty red haired librarian who had asked me to call her Ms.D, had caught me fussing with the latch on the door. She'd taken my hand and tugged with me, and we'd opened it together.

"Worst emergency exit I've ever seen," She chuckled, a pretty blush in her cheeks. "Lucinda, Lucinda. You've always been one to get into trouble, haven't you." It wasn't a question.

Her smile was still etched into my mind, I'd enjoyed her company so much, even for the short time I'd known her. She'd left several months after that incident, leaving behind the elderly assistant, who was always seemed too bothered to take care of the library, the way it ought to be cared for.

I turned and stalked around to the front of the building set narrowly avoiding several huge puddles. I ducked under the awning. My jean shorts and hoodie were entirely soaked through, and I was shivering in the cool evening air.

I looked at the little dove. It looked scrawny, drenched to the bone, and it was still twitching lightly. For a split second I began to wonder what a white dove was doing in Calais, Maine, when a girl spoke up from behind me, interrupting that particular train of thought.

"You moving anytime soon or are you gonna just stand there forever?"

I whipped around, witty retort on my tongue, but it died when I laid eyes on the girl standing only several inches away. She had a sour face and more piercings than I could count. Her punky blonde hair stuck out at odd angles and her cherry red lips were pinched up in a grimace, her eyes flashing with emotions that I couldn't decipher

_Not that I necessarily want to._

The girl reminded me of a snake.

She raised a dark penciled eyebrow, as if she'd heard my thought.

"Well?" she snarled, and I noticed that she was entirely dry. The rain was still pouring down, not showing any signs of let up. The girl didn't even have an umbrella.

"Um-yeah," I stuttered, about to duck inside, but before I even got the chance to move, she shoved past me and slammed the door behind her.

I blinked, running my free hand through my hair.

_Very subtle._

I shook off the strange girl's malicious behavior and peered down at the little bird in my arms.

"Hey, little dove," I cooed. "Things are weird today aren't they?"

I smiled at the unconscious bird, feeling like a crazy person. I sighed and figured that I'd have to go home, much as I would rather not.

_I hope they're done._

I turned and, once again, ran out into the pouring rain.

I stood patiently on the porch step and pressed my ear to the whitewashed door.

Silence.

I breathed a sigh of relief and used on hand to fish my keys out of my front pocket. They dripped as I stuck them in the keyhole and turned the knob slowly. I entered on my toes and shut it silently behind me. I sneaked around the corner to the right, and was halfway up the stairs when spared glanced into the living room. And instantly regretted it.

My father, James Court-a tall white man, of about 41 years, with a scruffy black beard and a decent amount of hair on his head, for his age-was fondling a pretty girl who couldn't have been older than 19. She whimpered as he slid his large hand between her skinny thighs.

I pressed my fist to my mouth and slid quietly up the stairs. I half ran down the short hallway to my room, as the girls cries grew steadily louder, and even more unbearable.

I closed the door hastily behind me and collapsed, trembling, in the center of the floor. I gently took the dove out of my jacket and laid it on the carpet in front of me.

It no longer twitched.

It was stiff, lifeless. I swallowed heavily and pressed my palm to my forehead.

_Don't beat yourself up. You did all you could._

I caressed the little dove with one finger and decided that I would bury it when I got the chance. I opened my closet and pulled out an old shoebox and a ratty blanket from goodwill.

I wrapped the little dove up in the blanket and then put the small lump into the shoebox, and the lid on top. I set the box in the center of my bed so that I wouldn't forget, but who was I kidding. As much as I wanted to, I wouldn't.

I shuddered, still standing around in my sopping wet clothes. I peeled off my jeans and hoodie and found that even my underwear was drenched. I did an entire wardrobe swap, with new underwear, a pair of fresh jean shorts and a well-worn lilac tank.

The weather stayed steady throughout the day. Heavy rain and wind, constantly picking up the pace. The box stayed in the center of my twin bed, insistently drawing my eyes every time I almost forgot.

For hours, I stayed holed up in my room, fearful of a repeat of what I saw on the stairs. Afraid to have a run in with my dad.

I stayed in my room, reading, drawing, daydreaming, until evening turned to night, and hunger gnawed at my bones. I stood, feeling stiff, and glancing at the neglected box on my bed. I would have to do the deed tomorrow.

I pinched my temples and proceeded down the hallway, and down the stairs into the empty living room.

I felt a bit of tension remove itself from my chest, helping me breathe easier as I tiptoed into the kitchen.

And jumped a foot back.

A feminine voice echoed from the tiny kitchen into the living room, singing a surprisingly accurate cover of 'Sinking Man'. I heard dishes clink and water running and the sound-and smell-of food cooking. My stomach grumbled loudly.

I leaned into the door, pushing it open a crack, and over calculating. I stumbled into the kitchen like an elephant, falling to my knees. The girls voice stuttered and then stopped. A dish clanked sloppily into the sink as I picked myself up off of the floor, brushing the dirt off of my jeans.

I found myself facing the pretty girl my dad had been with. I swallowed dryly. My mouth was the Sahara.

She had long blonde hair and doe eyes, and perfect pink lips. She stood a few inches shorter than myself, and had a sugar-cookie-sweet smile on her face.

"You must be Lucinda," She drawled. "I'm Gabbe."


	3. Violet in the Dark

**Author's Note:** Alright, well I feel like this chapter is gonna be not-so-good. I'm trying to get my crap together and I seem have a procrastination problem, and I don't want my story to get into a rut. Need opinions! :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the fallen series. Sadly.

"You must be Lucinda," she drawled. "I'm Gabbe."

She smiled brightly, brushing her long hair over her shoulder and drying her soapy hands on her yoga pants.

Gabbe held out a dainty hand, looking entirely at home in her baggy Tshirt and yoga pants. I wondered how long she'd been staying at the house, bypassing my notice. The girl wasn't someone you could easily forget. I just assumed my dad was still with that porky brunette.

I just stared at Gabbe's hand, lost in thought, and she stepped forward on perfectly manicured toes to place a hand on my shoulder.

"You took quite a spill there," she said, a great amount of emotion playing in her eyes, for what reason, I could not tell. "You alright?"

I blushed and nodded, cracking my knuckles nervously, a habit I'd had since middle school. She took both of my hands in hers, and I could've sworn that she was laughing at me.

"That's good," she said softly, more to herself than me. Then louder, "Well, Lucy, I'll see you round!"

I blanched at the old nickname my mom used to use. She grinned and turned abruptly, dancing out of the kitchen. I stared after her until her blonde hair whipped around the corner, disappearing. The girl was an enigma to me.

I shoved her from my mind and began to ravish the fridge. The thing was nearly empty. My stomach grumbled.

I glanced around the kitchen and my eyes were drawn to a pair of pots on the stove. I padded over to them and lifted the lids. The bigger one held uncooked noodles and water, and the lesser held a red sauce. I dunked my finger into it and tasted it. Marinara sauce.

It tasted amazing.

_Was she cooking?_

I checked the pasta and noticed that the water wasn't even warm. I pressed my palm to the stove. Cold.

I looked behind me to see if she'd maybe come back, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I reached behind the potted plant to the left of the stove and snatched the lighter to light the stove.

Fifteen minutes later I sat at the small dinner table-for-two, staring out the dirty glass door, slurping on the best meal I'd had for years. I watched the rickety bird feeder that I'd made when I was five sway in the wind.

That was before the divorce, before the court case that decided who I would live with when I was eleven, before my mother killed herself, leaving me all alone, sent to live with a father that didn't even want me...

"Lucinda."

I could have jumped five feet in the air in fright, but instead simply dropped my fork into my pasta, causing a red mess. I turned to my dad, who stood by the counter.

"Clean yourself up," He grunted, then, "Did you make this?" He motioned toward the stove.

_Kind of._

I nodded, nervous.

He turned and helped himself to a heaping plated, then shuffled off into the living room. I heard the crap television crackle to life, playing the dull theme song for Sunday night baseball.

I took a deep, shaky breath and stood to wash my dish. My dad hardly spoke to me, or even acknowledged my existence, but when he did, it was never a good thing.

The sink was full of suds and half-washed dishes. I plopped mine into the water, wondering why Gabbe left so many things unfinished. I shook of the strange feeling I was getting and finished up the rest of the dishes, tucking them into their respective cabinets, and boxed up the left over food. I hurried back upstairs to clean up and call it a night.

The next morning-Monday-I was woken by shouting.

I gazed blearily at the time on my cell and was heavily reminded of when my parents would fight constantly, not even pausing to sleep, their exhaustion only fueling their fire.

4:05 AM.

I blinked in an attempt to clear the sleep from my eyes and rose, in my plain night dress. I slipped silently out of my room and down the stairs.

The shouting grew louder and words became distinguishable, the memories that racked my brain causing me to shake uncontrollably. It was definitely my dad, but who was he yelling at?

"Stupid bitch!" He bellowed. "You...to think I could love you? A-and you leave... I... my own person, bitch. You... stay here? Don't come back."

He was slurring, his words breaking and mushing together at awkward places, profoundly drunk. I peered around the corner and there he stood. I clenched my fists to control the shaking, in vain.

Whoever he was speaking to stood in the kitchen and he stood at the entrance between it and the living room. A soft feminine voice spoke up, but he cut her off, talking nonsense and insults. His voice rose and I cowered slightly up the stairs, too curious to leave.

He lunged into the kitchen and rose back up with a fistful of something-someone-that was screaming.

_Gabbe._

He yanked her through the door by her long hair.

I winced.

Her face was red and splotchy. Her eyes dewy and bloodshot. A cut in her perfect lips was bleeding down her chin and neck, her mouth open in an O of fear. The skin of her arms was purple and blue with fresh bruises. I winced again as he jerked her into the entryway and threw her onto the porch step.

"Fuck you," he spat. She whimpered and he slammed the door in her face.

My eyes filled with tears as I trembled on the stairs.

I had genuinely liked her.

_You're crying._

I choked in surprise as tears fell heavily down my cheeks. I cursed myself as I tried to quench them, confused by my intense emotional response to this girl that I hardly knew.

While I was preoccupied my dad had paced back around on heavy feet to the bottom of the stairs.

He stared at me in his drunken way.

"Come... 'ere," he spluttered.

I rose on shaky legs, and did as I was told.

"Anna," He slid one finger down the side of my moist cheek.

I was sobbing freely, releasing all the emotion I'd been holding in for so long.

I shook my head, fear crushing my chest, causing my to tremble even more violently. Anna was my mom's name. I shuddered as his palm rested on my collarbone and his other stroked my hip.

"No," I moaned. I understood his pain. I understood that I took on her hair, her eyes, her mouth. I But I was not my mother.

His eyes were soft and wet, his lips parted in wonder.

He leaned down toward me and pressed his lips to my cheek repeatedly. His breath reeked of vodka.

I stood, frozen in horror, as his lips trailed down my throat.

"Anna," he breathed against my shoulder. He used his hand to slide my dress off my shoulder and kiss it. His tears spattered on my chest and slid down between my breasts. I cried out when his grip on my hip tightened. I had no hope of escaping.

He slid the other shoulder off and kissed that one too, then brought his lips to mine, kissing me. I sobbed harder as he pressed his hand against the small of my back, holding me against him and sliding his tongue into my mouth. I tasted the alcohol and shuddered as he tugged the thin dress off of my body. His hand caressed my breast and slid down between my thighs. I fought, trying to pull away, but he only held me tighter.

"Anna. Don't fight, don't fight," he mumbled against my lips and slid his large hand into my panties.

Suddenly there was a great flash of white and I was thrown away from him.

I knocked my head against something. Maybe a wall. I didn't know. But everything faded, and the last thing I remember seeing was a flash of violet.


	4. Fear

**Author's Note: **It's been a few weeks hasn't it? More? Sorry. I've been pretty busy and haven't been able to keep up with everything. Anyways this chapter is very short and sweet. Well not sweet really. Quite confusing actually. I had planned on making it long but I just have time right now to type up a big-ass chapter and I definitely wanted to give any one who follows this story a new chapter cause I know the feeling of having to wait FOREVER for a Fanfic chapter. So here it is! Need feedback, loves.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Fallen'

I rolled over, blinking rapidly.

_How did I get here?_

I ran my hand over my eyes.

My room shone brightly with morning sunlight peeking in between the blinds, washing it in golden hues.

A shuffle from the direction of my door made me jump and quickly tucked myself back under the covers. I rolled over and breathed deeply, feigning sleep as best as I could.

Then, several light footsteps and a small squeak. Suddenly there was a huge clatter and the sound of shattering glass. I bolted up in my bed and blanched when I saw Gabbe kneeling on the ground at my bedside, gingerly picking up the pieces of a wrecked glass bowl.

"...nice thing around here, good grief," She muttered, placing the neat pile of glass in her palm and dropping it into the pocket of her pink apron. A stain was left behind that looked suspiciously like pea soup.

I was still staring when gabbe rose and glanced around carefully. She leaped back when her eyes fell on me, awake.

"Oh. Oh, sorry darlin," She drawled, tossing her hair over her shoulder in that sassy way that she seemed to have perfected.

I blinked and pinched my temples. I hadn't realized how bad of a headache I'd had until now. The whole front of my skull pounded agonizingly, but I swallowed it and smiled at gabbe.

"What yah doin?" I tried to sound innocent but it only came out strained.

Gabbe's eyes narrowed the slightest bit as I dropped my hands from my head, but the expression vanished in an instant. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, a lovely pink forming in her cheeks.

"I-I meant to bring you some breakfast, honey," She smiled sheepishly, tugging at her apron full of glass. "I'm just a bit of a clutz, really"

"Oh. right."

"Sorry about that," Gabbe said, indicating the stain.

"No biggy," I said, giving a fake smile. I'd have a hell of a time cleaning that up. "I don't think Jam-I mean Dad will be too angry. It's the thought that counts."

_He'll care. He'll care a lot. And I'm going to pay for it._

I flinched again as my head pulsed

Gabbe's face seemed to pale at the mention of my father's name and I winced remembering him throwing her out and then...

Then what?

I shook my head, then regretted it. My head was aching. What happened last night didn't really matter, right? I just forgot about going up to my room. That's it.

Gabbe's face was ashen, and her eyes bore into me, unblinking.

I shuddered, sensing a chill that had nothing to do with the glass or the soup or Gabbe.

Fear.

I choked.

"Honey?" Gabbe said softly, moving toward me. I guess I looked that bad. My head was pounding.

I nodded. "I'm good," I sputtered, laying slowly back down and waving her off with one hand.

She smiled, color returning to her face lightly.

"Do you want me to go?" She edged towards the door, seeming eager to leave. She blurred slightly.

I nodded meekly, closing my eyes and falling into the abyss I hadn't been aware that I'd been hanging over.


	5. The Shadows aren't so Bad

**Author's Note: **Okay so I lied. I got into the zone on my writing. Tell me what yah think. xoxo

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fallen.

Colors came in a blinding cascade, twisting and swirling into rivers and wisps around me, and I had the distinct feeling that they were attempting to form something. An image.

But it was missing things, pieces, parts.

They flew through me and around me, dancing like ballerinas on colorful clouds. I swayed and the whole scene shifted, colors disappearing between cracks that opened in the ground and then taking shape, like tar rising up. I screamed but it headed no sound. The darkness pulsed farther up from the cracks, rushing towards me until it shuddered to a stop mere inches from my frozen body, the surreal dream not allowing me the freedom of movement.

Abruptly, color flooded the dark mass, bleeding through it like tiny veins, and it became a hallway, gaining depth as the other dark clots steadily became the southern part of my house. I peered behind me at the dark tar sliding across the ground like snakes, staining the walls putrid black. I jerked forward in fear, spiraling like a bullet down the familiar hallway. The darkness continued to form the stairs as I staggered my way down them clumsily and nearly fell when I came across an awkward mass that was still forming halfway up the stairs. It took the distinct shape of a person.

Colors washed the darkness away like a tidal wave, and I swayed feeling the scene shift again with my movement. With the shift came several small fractures in the scenery, from which came a blinding white light that burned my skin. I flinched away from it, farther into the dark, forming, image. A heavy, musty smell surrounded me and I let it cradle me and whisk me away from the nauseating light. Shadows slithered up the stairs and coated the cracks easily, like lacquer, and then faded into the image.

Color had finally reached down the stairs and was bleeding into a large masculine figure that appeared to be raising its fist.

I glanced up towards the stairs and started. The figure on the staircase was... me.

She crouched, sickly pale, on the fifth step, her hands holding the railing with a vice-like grip. Tears resided in her eyes and she looked strangely angelic in her simple night dress. Her long, dark, hair hung down her back, wild as her fearful green eyes. Eyes that were watching the scene that sprung into action before my eyes as the last bit of color bled into the blonde of Gabbe's hair.

I stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen... just as my my father had. last night.

My head pulsed.

I winced and put my hand on the wall to stop the swaying that it ensued. And flinched back as my hand set on fire. A large crack had parted just under my palm, and the blaze sent me stumbling back into the living room and I sprawled on my back. I cried out and rolled over onto my stomach to shield my face from the blazing light, feeling as though my body was on fire. I seized up and twitched on the floor of the living room, tears pouring down my face. The fire continued until I felt as though there was nothing left on my body to burn. My throat was hoarse from screaming, my eyes fresh out of tears to cry.

Unexpectedly, the pain quit, and I sat up carefully, cowering into myself, to see a shadow fading into the wall. I sent silent thanks to my childhood fear for saving me twice.

I inspected my body, half expecting it to be nothing but ash, but it looked entirely unharmed. Save for my hand. It held a row of bloody, festering blisters that ached dreadfully, but they were bearable in comparison with the blinding pain that I'd just experienced.

I stood shakily and noticed that in my cocoon of flame, the scene had continued without me, oblivious to my torture.

I looked around, my eyes landing on my dream self, who was trembling violently on the bottom stair and James, my father. And what I saw nauseated with the extra height of the stair she only reached up to James' nose at her height of five-two, trembling with... fear. All she wore were her cotton white panties.

I inched closer, curious even in my disgust. As they came more closely into view, I saw James' hands touching her breasts, groping her, as she silently sobbed, helpless.

"Anna," He moaned, kissing her roughly and holding her against him. She shuddered violently and pushed against him but he only held her tighter, tighter. She screamed but that only egged him on. He dropped her and she fell with a thunk onto the stairs and he slapped her hard across the face.

"Don't fuck with me Anna! Do you love me or not!" He yelled, grabbing her upper arms and shaking her as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm-not-Anna!" She hiccuped, throwing her head back as he punch her in the throat.

She went limp for a second, and with that he threw her down like a rag doll.

When her body hit the ground she shrieked and her body began to shake and heave off of the ground.

"Do you love me or not!" James screamed, and I saw tears fall off of his cheeks. "You can't just be with him, Anna. I need you too. I need you too!"

She screamed and scrambled back up the stairs on her hands and feet. James advanced and lunged out, catching her ankle in his grasp and yanking her towards him. Her head collided withe several stairs.

"Love me, Anna," He sobbed, his hands sliding up her thighs as she struggled. His hands found her cotton panties and yanked them down her legs.

"Please. No-no, no, no. I'm not Anna. I'm not Anna!" She sobbed, shoving his hands away as they touched her private area. In the end he was too strong. He shoved her legs apart, using his body to hold them open as he undid his jeans and pulled out his length. She screamed as what she saw and what he was doing clicked in her mind.

And all hope vanished from her features. She went slack, tears pooling in her greens eyes, my green eyes.

She let him mold her against him as he shoved himself viciously into her. She whimpered.

I whimpered.

I swayed, stumbling to the side, my heart pounding as he raped her against the stairs.

Raped me. Raped me.

I blinked but everything was blurring, swirling. Crevices broke in the vision, and continued to split and re-split as her screams filled my ears.

My screams...

The fire swallowed me. The image of James and I on the stairs shattered like a glass mirror, falling away in chunks and shards.

The light grew steadily worse until my screams were just one long note, breaking through the fire-

"Lucy!"

I blinked, and my shrieks cut off abruptly.

"Shh, shh, you're okay. You're okay."

My throat hurt. My body hurt. My eyes hurt.

Everything hurt.

I looked at my palm. It was clear of blisters, but a single tear slid down my face and landed in the center with a splash.

"Lucinda?"

I glanced up and saw a strange thing before my eyes.

Gabbe kneeled next to my bed, her expression distraught, and just beyond her, a man, a boy, stood leaning in the doorway. My eyes locked on him, my heart picking up speed.

"Who...?" I tried to say but it came out as a wheeze.

"What?" Gabbe stroked my face.

I nodded towards the golden haired guy in my doorway, whose grey eyes seemed to bore into my soul.

I trembled, remembering something strange.

Violet.

I stood reverently, moving quickly across the room, though my bruised legs protested heavily, until I stood nose to nose with this strange man that I'd never before seen in my life. His eyes widened and I saw something that made my heart falter more than his beautiful face.

Violet.

I saw violet.


	6. The Duo

**Author's Note: **I've been writing a lot during school but I think that might change soon cause of exams and everything, you know? I'm really enjoying the story cause I feel like it's going somewhere at this point. Right now we're just trying to meet Daniel on good terms aren't we? Feedback?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own 'Fallen'.

_Violet._

_I saw Violet._

He backed away, looking shocked and confused by my sudden intensity. Gabbe appeared behind me, taking me by the waist and leading me gently back onto my mattress. She waved her hand slowly in front of my eyes and snapped her fingers next to my ears. I jerked away from the sound.

"Is she still dreaming?" The gorgeous boy groaned, moving carefully back into my room.

"No.. I don't think so. She's different, her eyes are more aware. I can see something else in there. You didn't do it thorough enough. She remembers everything. I can see it," Gabbe said with her back towards him as she continued to inspect me. She took my hand in her tiny one, her grip was surprisingly firm.

"Lucinda? Nod if you understand," She cooed.

I bobbed my head up and down slowly, afraid to move too fast, but there was no getting around it. The room gave sickening lurch, and I winced, almost expecting fissures to open in the walls as they had in my dreams.

She put a palm to my forehead and I found that it was nice and cool. I leaned into it.

"Your head still hurt?" She choked, her eyes disbelieving as she glanced behind her at the boy, their eyes locking. She turned back to me, picking up a rag from the ground and wiped my face with it.

I shook my head under her hands and felt sweat bead on my forehead as the room spun. My stomach tightened and then rose rapidly into my throat. I gagged and stood fast to rush to the bathroom just across the hall, and instantly regretted it. My knees buckled and the floor rushed up towards my face. I felt hands catch me before I face planted, but I was busy struggling with the nausea that threatened to spew all over the floor and anyone standing too close.

"Hurry, she's about to blow chunks, Gab," I heard distantly as I was suddenly placed in front of the toilet. I gripped the edges and threw up my innards into the clean bowl.

Gabbe's hand held my hair back maternally as I barfed, and stroked my back when I sat up to wait for the sickness to pass.

"She done?" I peeked up through my lashes at the boy who stood in the hall. He looked disgusted. I didn't blame him. I was pathetic.

As if to answer his question, bile rose in my throat and I hacked up the rest of my stomach as Gabbe said encouraging words and held back my long hair once again. Eventually I fell against the wall, having lost track of my surroundings, feeling empty and exhausted. Sweat dripped down my face. I glanced up and saw that Gabbe and the boy stood close together in the doorway, as though they were having an intimate conversation.

I felt an irrational spark of jealousy flare in my chest but squandered it. I barely knew either of them. They could be together if they wanted.

I blinked slowly, enjoying the coolness of the wall and tile floor, but knew I needed to get up and get rid of these two. Even if they had helped me. James would be furious. The house was dirty and I wasn't supposed to have people over, regardless of whether I asked them to come or not. I would get a flogging if they didn't leave before James went down to get a beer.

I put my hands on the wall, and stood shakily, using the cool drywall for leverage. I shuffled carefully to the door and straight between their private little conversation. Whatever they were saying could be said outside. Far away from my house. I turned around slowly, and found both their eyes on me, Gabbe's confused, the boy's annoyed. I think.

"You need to leave," I croaked, running my tongue over my teeth and almost throwing up again. They needed a cleaning. I made a detour back into the bathroom, pushing roughly past the two still standing frozen in the way. They couldn't seem to take a hint. I pulled out my mint tooth paste and green toothbrush and attempted to scrub the bile off my teeth. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I looked awful. My hair was a mess, my eyes were bloodshot and red around the edges, my lips were chapped and stray hairs stuck to the sweaty skin on my neck and forehead.

I snatched a towel from under the sink and mopped my face. I sighed.

_Good as it's gonna get._

I moved past them again and cleared my throat.

"Ok. You both need to leave. You're not even supposed to be here," I snapped, eyeing Gabbe. "And I don't even know who the fuck you are. Please leave, or I'm gonna have hell to pay when he wakes up."

I glared at them both and jerked a thumb towards James' room.

"Luc-," Gabbe began but I cut her off with a look.

"Leave."

She frowned and ran her hand through her hair.

The boy was already past me, half way down the stairs, as Gabbe hesitated.

"Thanks for helping me, but it was just a nightmare, I could have taken care of myself, you don't belong here, please leave," I said quickly, turning to the side and holding out my arm as if to say 'After you'.

She walked begrudgingly down the stairs and into the living room. I followed.

Memories from the dreams slapped me in the face.

I whimpered, running a hand over my forehead which had broken out in a sweat again. I decided to get cleaning instead of dallying on my dream and scooped the vodka bottles laying skewed around the room, into my arms. A plate slid from my fingers and hit the ground, splitting in two, just as I heard the front door slam shut. I gingerly picked up the shards and hurried into the kitchen to dump the load.

I glanced at the clock.

10:35.

I sighed and finished picking up the living room, then moved on to the laundry, and then the kitchen. Around 11 I started his lunch, cooking up two burgers and put them on a plate in a microwave to keep them warm.

Unexpectedly a hand cupped my ass and squeezed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, maneuvering carefully out of his grasp, my heart beating heavily.

"Lunch?" James grumbled, walking over to the table on lead feet and slumping into a chair. I nodded and pulled the burgers out of the microwave and a beer from the fridge, placing them carefully in front of him.

Abruptly, he reached out and grabbed my hair, yanking me down. I screamed and fell to my knees next to him. He leaned down so that his breath washed over my face. It smelled of alcohol. It always smelled of alcohol.

"Where were you yesterday?" He growled, yanking my hair more forcefully.

I blinked away tears that seemed to be a common occurrence of late.

"Th-the library," I stuttered.

"Whatever," He grunted, and slapped me across the face. He stood, shoving the seat so hard that it tipped over on it's side. I fell onto my back and he climbed over top of me.

His fists flew with no warning, whatsoever, blinding me with pain and filling my ears with the sound of fists on skin.

When he finished, he wrapped his hand in the hair at the base of my neck and lifted me up to kiss me painfully.

I felt blood drip down my face and onto the floor. A cut on my lip left a stain on his when he pulled back. He wiped it off onto the back of his hand, took his burgers and retreated into the living room.

Things were blurry after that. I remembered hearing him tell me to clean the floor. And I remembered laying there, aching for a while.

But after a moment, I gathered my senses and stood shakily to cleanup the mess I'd made on the floor.

When I reached out to scrub the floor I noticed, almost curiously, that my arms were a violent red, with bruised and bloody splotches.

Tears spilled down the creases of my face as I scrubbed the blood off of the floor, and they blurred my vision as I hurried up the stairs and into the bathroom.

I rinsed my face and watched, rapt, as pinkish water swirled down the drain. When I looked into the mirror I saw that bruises blossomed in flower like shapes across my cheekbones and forehead and neck. A single cut on my lower lip refused to scab over and continued to bleed down my chin.

I tiptoed carefully into the living room with a towel pressed to my mouth to staunch the bleeding, and very nearly choked on my relief when I found that James had disappeared back into his room.

I whirled back around and stumbled up the stairs and down the hall, into my room to change out of my gore splattered nightgown. My hands were shaking as I peeled it off of my clammy skin.

I threw on a baggy long sleeve shirt and a pair of long pants and limped into the bathroom to put on my face. I'd become quite good at covering up bruises so I was done in a flash. I was adding a final touch of eyeliner when I remembered that it was monday. I had school.

"Shit," I mumbled, running a comb through my greasy, tangled hair. I bolted into my room and slipped on my converse, then snatched up my bag and flew out the door, keys in hand.

I slid into the cheap faux-leather seat of my 1970s station wagon, cranking up the heat and jacking the engine to life.

I was halfway there when I realized I'd forgotten a jacket in ten degree weather.

_Damn it._

I frowned and slowed as I pulled into the parking lot of Monroe High School. I parked between a jeep and a mini van, tossing my parking pass onto the dashboard, then made a mad dash for the main entrance.

I slowed to a quick walk as I approached attendance.

"Do you have a note?" The elderly lady behind the counter droned. Though I'd been late many times, I had never caught her name.

"No," I gasped, my ribs aching. I leaned against the cool counter.

"This is the-fifth time miss... Lucinda," she said, squinting at the computer. I guess it went both ways.

"I know," I sighed, tapping my fingers, having finally caught my breath.

She grunted in response amd typed up my tardy before scribbling the same information onto a pink square of paper, in her loopy scrawl.

_Lucinda M Court_

_Tardy, Unexcused_

_12:40 PM / June 26, 2009_

I wasn't entirely sure why she needed to add the year, but I didn't really care. I snatched up the note and fast walked to my third period class.

I caught my teacher mid-sentence, English, Mr Carr-a seedy old man, who looked as though he could use a shower and had the gravelly voice of a smoker-, and handed him the pass like a sleepwalker and shuffled off to my seat in the back corner.

I slumped carefully into the seat, so as not to jostle my injuries, and had a moment of peace as Mr. Carr's lecture made perfect background noise. Then I took inventory. My rib area had been burning since I left the house and as I prodded them, I could easily tell that a fair few were broken.

_Fantastic._

The rest of my skin was painted with bruises that probably made me look like a Picasso masterpiece. They ached dreadfully. I was almost certain that my face was an odd yellow-ish color, because of the bruises under the makeup, and I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation. A single tear trickled down my face, and I flicked it away with one finger. I tuned back into class, and buried my thoughts in notes, losing myself in the story of Hamlet.


	7. Free

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'Fallen'

Twenty minutes later the bell to signal lunch erupted from the overhead speakers, causing me to flinch out of my dazed state. I groaned and stood slowly. My body hurt even worse at that point, I ached down to my bones.

I entered the lunch room with a badly disguised limp and peered around the cafeteria.

Everyone had their own groups-cliques, if you will. There were the Theatre kids who always dressed weird and sat in the far corner, deepest into the room. There was the really really smart kids, and the marching band kids, who took up a whole huge row in the middle of the room. The poor kids, the ones with fucked up lives, sat out side in a small cluster of picnic tables, and were always somehow able to smuggle drugs and alcohol into the school. The "popular" kids, the rich ones, the sporty ones or the ones that simply thought they were "all that", sat in the corner by the windows, always laughing too loud or causing problems for the rest of the cafeteria. Near the front of the cafeteria, adjacent to the exit doors and the doors to the outdoor eating area, were the musical prodigies and artistes, who usually sat around playing music or whatever they do. On a normal day, I would sit outside, with the stoners, and smoke. But I would never drink. Sometimes when things were bad, I would find an empty table and sit there, among the kids who had no place, like those who didn't speak english.

I glanced around the room, debating. I was aching, I could use a joint. On the other hand, I didn't think I wanted to deal with the drunk, horny assholes who tended to chill there. While I stood there, thinking, my eyes fell on someone I had not expected to see ever again. The guy from this morning chatted 'laxly in the corner with the theatre kids and two others that I didn't recognize. One dark kid with dreads, a skinny girl with pink hair and-to my great surprise-the girl from sunday, the one with too many piercings and a bad attitude.

Pink haired girls eyes locked with mine and her face twisted up in confusion. Just as the boy began to turn and see what was so interesting, I ducked my head and wrapped my arms tightly around my ribs, though it hurt. I made my decision immediately and hurried outside to the picnic tables. I sighed as the doors sluffed shut behind me.

Tommy grinned at me as I laid my jacket down on the still-damp bench and plopped into my seat. He scooted closer until his scrawny leg was pressed up against mine. He leaned in and smelled my hair.

"Am I gonna get freshhh today, LuLu?" He said, putting his bony hand on my thigh. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol.

I pulled out my ziplock and lit up a joint that I'd had tucked inside. I took a long hit, willing it to wash away the perv that was sliding his hands up my top and whispering things to me. Begging it to cover up my abandonment issues and my familial issues. Wishing for it to free me...

I took another hit and felt the smoke slither down my throat, like a candle flame, held it, and then let it out slowly. I watched dazedly as it made swirls in the air. Tommy's hands continued to roam. I ignored him when he repeatedly asked me if I was "nervous".

_What a dumbass._

I closed my eyes and decided to pretend it was someone I wanted to touch me. I mean, even though his fingers were boney, drunk and inexperienced, it still felt nice, in my high. I followed them as they unbuttoned my jeans and slid down into my underwear, then between my folds, stroking me until I could barely hole in my whimpers. I took another hit, letting it sparkle through my thoughts like electricity until an image of an attractive man appeared, with pretty blonde hair... broad shoulders... large hands that were sliding inside of me as I looked up into his amazing grey eyes, eyes that glowed with love and lust... eyes that held just the slightest hints of... violet... _violet_

I gasped and shoved myself away from Tommy.

He stared at me as if I had just grown a third leg. "What gives," he slurred.

I just shook my head, trembling down to my core. I saw _him_.

_What gives Lucinda. What the hell. You don't even know him._

Tommy barely glanced at me one more time before snatching up the joint I hadn't even noticed I'd dropped and taking off after some girl with blonde hair who'd just passed by. I swallowed, feeling sick.

I dug out my ziplock for the second time, pissed that I lost my joint, but honestly too shaken to care that much. I lit it up, taking a deep it and feeling my vision tunnel. I laid on my back to settle the swaying that it usually ensued, and silently begged my mind to shut up. I let the high swallow me, and when I came back down off of my cloud, I decided to check the time.

12:28.

I fumbled with clumsy fingers, trying to shut it and tuck it away.

"Twelve twenty-eight you guys," I slurred, and there was a collective groan as a handful of people put out their joint and the other half that didn't give a shit enough to go back into school took off into the woods together. I put mine out and tucked it into the ziplock for later, and walked into the cafeteria on noodle legs. I couldn't even feel the bruises or my ribs anymore. It's amazing what weed can do. I laid eyes on the boy for a fourth time in one day and my heart thumped, I raised my hand in the air as we locked eyes and

-flipped him off.

I grinned as confusion and offense flooded his pretty features and swaggered my way out of the cafeteria doors, something I never would have been able to do if I was sober.

I didn't see the boy or any of his friends for the rest of the day, and I was left with a horrible chill as the drugs left my system. The evening also went without a hitch. James came down for dinner and then shut himself up in his room, a bottle of vodka in each hand. After cleaning up dinner, I felt cold and without purpose so I slipped up the stairs to my room. I stripped down in front of my mirror to gauge the damage.

It was even worse than I'd thought. Popped blood vessels bordered the hand shaped bruises that went from my ankle to my thigh and over my hips. My entire ribcage was discolored black and blue, yellowing disgustingly around the edges. The bruises continued down my arms and across my chest, where they cut off abruptly at the base of my neck. Where skin stopped and makeup began.

I trembled and went for my bag, taking out the little bag of weed.

_How did my life become this?_

I shook with sobs as the bag fell from between my fingers and landed softly on the floor. I fell to my knees and curled into myself, feeling so small. I stayed like that for hours, in a trance-like state, trapped in my own depression. Finally I drifted, blissfully, to sleep.


	8. Ginger Snaps

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Fallen'.

My eyes flickered open to the dust ridden floor of my bedroom. It was still dark, but I could see a hint of dawn breaking through the window, a dim square of light shining on my sleeping place on the hardwood floor.

I moved slowly, pain igniting at every joint in my body, though I felt more well rested than I had for weeks.

I breathed out heavily as I lifted my stiff, aching, naked body from the unforgiving ground and limped like an invalid to the bathroom.

I sighed with pleasure when I stepped under the hot spray of the shower, realizing I hadn't taken one for days. I closed my eyes and a thought sparked in my head.

_You know what would make this better?_

_A joint._

I smiled, silently patting myself on the back and limped carefully to my room and snatched up the already made joint and lit it. I stuck it between my lips before tiptoeing back into the bathroom, dripping everywhere. I took a long, slow hit and set the joint on the back of the toilet.

The rosemary aroma of my shampoo filled my senses, enveloping me in my own high, happy bubble. The water wavered in my hazy vision, and a dark rim seemed to tunnel everything around me. When I finished with conditioner, I shut off the water and pawed around for my joint, taking another puff, and letting the warmth swallow me.

I towel dried my hair, and then padded across the hall, stark naked, with the joint between my lips. I took another hit and set it down before throwing on a low-cut long sleeve top and a pair of skinny jeans. I carried my joint with me as I went to put my face on.

The clock read 5:01 when I danced back into my room, and my eyes fell on an old shoebox on the top of my dresser.

I flinched and remembered that I was supposed to bury the bird. One part of me said fuck it, but the other part said that I had to. I felt it in my gut. I would bury it today.

_I will._

I smoked for a while and realized that I had a serious case of the munchies. I put out my smokes and stumbled down the stairs, not even caring that I had possibly just woken the bear-the bear being James.

I made myself a giant bowl of cereal, practically inhaling it, and almost screaming when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I hadn't even remembered that I'd put it there.

I shakily took it out and with fumbling fingers slid it open. The caller ID said 'Out of Area' so I just ignored it and set it on the table.

It rang a second time and my slow mind couldn't comprehend why someone wanted me to answer so badly.

I ignored it.

When it rang for a third time, I hit ignore just to shut it up.

When I went to wash my bowl I heard it vibrate again and sighed angrily. I settled back into my seat and saw that the screen was flashing with the 'New Text' symbol.

I rolled my eyes and slid it open.

_5073945682: Ginger snaps._

**Author's Note:** Feedback? So... what does ginger snaps mean?


	9. Down the Road

**Author's Note: **Okay. I am seriously sorry if this chapter is crap. I tried my best to salvage the notes I scribbled down the other day for this chapter, but yah know. I'll probably end up editing it later on. Feedback?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own fallen.

My mind reeled for what felt like an eternity until I realized just what the text said.

_Ginger snaps._

Two words. A code. Something my friend Chris and I had used since the development of my bad habit. It meant that we should meet in the woods and smoke, but usually he would mention it beforehand. Catch me in the hallway or lob a paper ball at the back of my head during Spanish.

I texted back:

_Why now?_

I set my phone on the table and watched it until it vibrated again.

_5073945682: Just come_

It wasn't even his phone number. I shook my head and went with it. People changed their number all the time, right?

I slipped up the stairs to grab my bag and took a quick peek in the mirror. Not a bruise in sight. I grinned and rolled myself a couple of joints, tucked them in the ziplock, then dipped out of the house.

I revved my engine as I pulled out, and heard my phone chime in the passenger seat. I peered over at the screen that flashed, reminding me that I had work today and needed to pay the bills.

I sighed inwardly, speeding up in my frustration.

When the spot came in sight, I parked on the side of the road, snatching up my zip-lock and jogging conspicuously under the cover of the thick trees that lined the roads.

"Lulu, _wazzzuuuup_," Chris rasped, appearing from behind a handful of poplars. "You got some stuff?"

I smiled sweetly.

"Not for you," I chuckled, lighting up a joint and taking a small puff. The trees danced as the smoke burned its way down my throat.

"You're a tease," He grumbled, leaning against a tree adjacent to mine, smoking a cigaret.

"Where's yours?"

"No dice."

"What?"

"I can't pay for it," he shrugged.

"Put out," I grinned at him devilishly, raising an eyebrow.

He snorted.

"I would for you, baby," he purred, sidling right up next me and sliding his hands around my torso in what he thought to be a seductive manner.

I didn't even have to swat his hands away. He dropped them to his sides and brought one up to put out his cigaret. He fell against the tree with a dramatic sigh and glanced up at me with puppy eyes. He was my best friend. He was also gay.

I sighed inwardly and nudged his shoulder, passing him the joint.

His face instantly brightened, and I understood how he felt. Weed was a promise of happiness, freedom. From your life, from people, from, well, everything.

_A promise._

"Hah, I knew you'd give in, babe," He took a deep, long hit and I saw him sway. He ran a hand through his violet locks, hands shaking.

Chris was a striking guy. He was freakishly tall, very nearly six feet, and skinny as hell. His style was somewhere between thrift-store chic and vintage, and his shaggy, choppy hair that seemed to change color more often than a chameleon, was a deep violet. Today he was sporting a terrible tweed suit, with tacky fake-gold cufflinks and red fingernail polish. He dug the toe of his old all-stars into the dirt. His eyes were thickly lined with charcoal liner, and bordered by dark circles of a life of hardship.

His personality was the best though. He seemed to loved everyone and was the biggest jokester. He fluttered his freakishly long lashes, speaking in the most feminine voice his vocal cords would allow.

"So my place or yours?"

He dissolved into laughter at his own joke, pounding his fist against a tree, causing it to shiver. Suddenly his smile fell flat into a hard line of high confusion. Or maybe just confusion.

My vision was sparkling and blurred at the edges, warning me not to smoke too much more or I would fade. Happened a lot, but it wasn't what I needed at the moment.

"What are you even doing here anyways?" His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and for half a second I saw the raving junkie that he was behind his carefully put together facade, but his expression softened quickly. "For a second I thought you were a narc. I got me some new stuff." His eyes sparkled as he whipped out a tiny ziplock much like my own and waved it in front of my face. It held a syringe and and unknown liquid. Chris raised his eyebrows expectantly.

I shook my head, perplexed. "I got a text." It came out as a question.

I pulled out my phone and showed him. He tucked the drugs back into his suit and squinted at the screen.

"Oh. I didn't send that."

I closed my phone with a snap and shoved it back into my pocket.

"Then who did?"

"I dunno, that's not even my number, Lu," He said, rolling his eyes so that I could see the angry red lines surrounding his irises.

"I know, I just-" I blurted, getting cut off when 'I'm a Barbie Girl' suddenly blared from Chris's chest pocket. He brought his phone to his ear, his eyes narrowing. He covered the mouthpiece and said in a hushed tone, "Lulu, what time is it?"

I glanced at the time on my cell. "7:02."

"Shit," he groaned, uncovering the mouthpiece and shouting over whoever was speaking. "I know! I'll be there!"

He snapped it closed.

"Court, family shit," He said, his mouth pinched up in the way that it tended to when he was really angry. His eyes were still unfocused with the high and I was sure he would regret taking such a deep hit.

"Gotta jet," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss my cheek, but in his daze his missed and landed on my mouth. I let it slide as he pinched my cheek and disappeared into the woods.

I backed away and slowly turned towards the road. I trudged out of the shadow of the trees and

-found someone sitting on the hood of my car.

"What the-" I gasped, my keys falling from my fingers, I glanced back at the woods, ready to retreat if I needed to. He, the guy on my car, slid down off my car gracefully and held up his large hands in a kind of surrender.

"Hey, hey, chill out," He said, a smile dancing around the edges of his full mouth as he mumbled something under his breath. His eyes flashed with annoyance.

I moved back carefully, several inches, afraid of giving away my inebriation. Dark spots clouded my vision.

Fuck.

I stumbled and settled on staying put to keep the side effects at bay.

He inched forward. "Look-"

"What the fuck-"

I backed up.

"Hey st-"

"You can't-"

"Actually-"

My hands were shaking. "Just sit on my car an-"

He laughed, interrupting me for what felt like the millionth time. "I just did."

"Fuck you," I spat. "Who are you anyways. I can call the cops." I waved my phone in the air.

"You won't," He chuckled conspiratorially, like he knew something I didn't.

_He know's I'm high. What the hell._

My cheeks flushed with anger as I lurched forward stupidly to snatch up my keys and made a dash for my car, shoving myself into the front seat. I pretended he didn't intimidate me. That he wasn't in front of my car, the laughter fading from his face. I started the old thing and floored the gas, the engine protesting as the wheels spun wildly.

His eyes were wide and he barely made it out of the way as the car jerked forward.

When I glanced in the rear view mirror, heart pounding, he had his hand raised in the air as if to stop me and a stupefied expression.

I swallowed heavily and fumbled with my lighter and joint. I took a hit and turned my eyes back to the road.


	10. John and Katie

**Author's Note: **Hey! New chapter down there for anyone who's following. Feedback?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own 'Fallen', if that isn't obvious.

After escaping the guy on my car, I drove until the sun was directly overhead. I drove down streets that I didn't recognized, made loops and twists. Pulled onto the highway and drove for about twenty minutes before realizing I had no clue where I was and doing a U-ey at the nearest exit. I finished my joint, and was on the brink of returning home, but talked myself into driving more by pointing out that I was high as hell and in no shape to be dealing with James.

The silence forced me to think as the cloudy high began to drift off. My body still ached and I couldn't help but drift to thoughts of James and Gabbe and... that guy.

Who was he to barge into my house and look at me with such disdain? What had I ever done to him?

_He was so pretty though..._

I shook my head violently and swerved into the Shell gas station just as the needle trembled into E. The old wagon spluttered twice and jerked to a stop just short of the pump.

I smashed my fist against the wheel in anger.

"Fucking car, I take as good care of you as I can and you do this to me? Just cause I needed a break!" I shouted. "This is what I get for making sure James didn't sell you for alcohol money? This is what I get! Pain and misery for my goddamn hard work, every fucking time-"

A knock on the window cuts me off. I look up to see Gabbe leaning down, staring at me in worry. I blush slightly for my insanity, but since a piece of my high still hung around, I barely gave shit about what she thought. She waved a small hand in an up and down motion which I believed meant that she wanted me to open my window.

I rolled my eyes.

_Why does she keep turning up?_

I shoved the door open, barely missing her as she stumbled back.

When I stepped out she brushed imaginary dust off of her knees and smiled at me.

"Uhm, this is awkward but, will you help me push my car up to the pump?" I said in the most pleasant tone that I could muster. I brushed my hair forward to hide my eyes, and stuck my hands in my pockets.

Her eyes skimmed right over my hopeless appearance and let them fall on my car.

"Yeah no problem!" she bubbled enthusiastically.

I smiled slightly and moved around to the tail of the old thing and put my hands on the trunk.

"Ok," I said. "On three. One..two, three."

I shoved hard as I possibly could, and it gave great groan as it inched forward. The car was surprisingly light, and I leaned into it until we were next to the pump.

I swiped my hand across my forehead and took a deep breath. I glanced at Gabbe, who didn't seem to have single hair out of place. I sighed in frustration at her perfection.

_She probably did most of the work you worthless piece of shit. You should have just done it yourself._

I clenched my fists to calm the shaking. I was literally on the verge of a breakdown. I was so worried that she would see that.

"Well is that all you needed? Need any gas money? Cause I got you covered," Her laugh was so sweet it made me want to cry.

"No, no. I'm good now," I stuttered. "Thanks."

I turned to the pump and tried to hide my face.

"Oh," she said softly. "See yah round, honey."

I grunted in response, then dug out my gas money and jammed it into the machine.

When I clocked into work at 2:30, only a half an hour later than the meeting with Gabbe at the Shell, I was exhausted. Instead of heading right out to the front desk, I spent at least twenty minutes finding a place for my things, getting dressed and messing around. I pulled out my cell and the bills reminder seemed to laugh at me. It simply sat there, flashing repeatedly. It was like it was saying,_ "You'll lose power Lucinda, You'll lose water and heat and comfort. Hah, James will be so mad, Hahahaha!"_

I sighed and tucked the cheap flip phone into my waistband.

As I walked to my post several thoughts seemed to flit through my head.

_Why do I have to do these things?_

_I'm only seventeen!_

_Why me? Why me? Why me?_

"Take these collapsed boxes to the back please, Lucinda."

I jumped, having not realized that I'd bumped into John, my manager. He knocked gently on the side of my head, making me laugh.

"Anybody in there? Come on now, Katie's not here today I need you on cue," he said, shoving a stack of brown collapsed boxes into my arms. I nodded.

Katie was a skinny blonde girl. She had the palest blue eyes I'd ever seen, and she was very plain, to be honest. But she was a sweetie and I always had theory that her mother abused her. I'd only known her for about a year, but I loved the girl.

_Why isn't Katie here? She's always here._

_Apparently not. Hope she's OK-_

My internal rambling was interrupted when I walked straight into a shelf of office supplies.

_Fucking great._

Work went as expected. I was, as always, lost in my thoughts and made a mess that I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up. I should mention that I worked at Tony's, an old department store that had just about anything, it was like walmart except that it didn't go commercial. And it's the only place in town that had the things that are needed on a daily basis. So it was pretty damn busy. All. The. Time.

John was a good guy. He picked up business after his dad passed of a heart attack. Not exactly what he wanted to do with his life, but it was means of honor.

I worked for him for minimum wage, technically, but I had this good thing going with john. He paid me just enough extra that James and I would be able to keep the house, put food on the shelves-and alcohol, because life is even more miserable when he's sober-and pay the bills. John knew I had major issues. He knew my parents when they were together, and knew they would fight constantly. He knew that we didn't have enough income to pay the bills. He took me under his wing, and I have never known how to repay him for how much he's helped me. One thing I could do was not act like a ditz when I was on the clock, of course.

But that didn't happen very often.

The rest of the night when per usual. I made dinner for James, then retreated to my room without eating, and just sat, staring at the shoebox while I made circles in my head.

I made a checklist on a pink piece of paper:

Tomorrow

1. Call the school and excuse my tardy for today.

2. Find a computer and pay the bills

3. Figure out what's going on with Chris

_Find out who that person was on your car._

_Talk to Gabbe's boyfriend._

_Talk to Gabbe's boyfriend's friends._

I shook my head to dislodge those thoughts. I didn't want anything to do with them, and that wouldn't change. I had enough problems without having to deal with them.

I folded the list carefully and tucked it into my bra before shucking my jeans and snuggling into my sheets.


	11. Calculus

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait for anyone who's still following the story :) And sorry about the shortness to this one. Just trying really hard to get my shit together you know. Thanks for the continued support and suggestions. 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'Fallen' if that isn't evident.

The next few days passed without incident. They bills were paid via the library computers, and the cabinets were filled with groceries. The school accepted the email from "James" excusing my tardiness, and I spent hours catching up on school work. Hours upon dreadfully dull hours that dragged on and on. I couldn't even speed the time with weed-I ran out.

Instead of moping I simply dialed my dealer for a meet at the sunoco just beyond the library on saturday-tomorrow incidentally- and drowned myself in schoolwork.

Odd strands of thought danced into being as I spread my calculus book before me. I began to wonder what happened to Gabbe. She hadn't been creeping around like usual, popping up in random places. She hadn't called the house or attempted to beg for my father back like previous girls.

In fact.. I hadn't seen James around... at all.

I shook my head and turned the page of notes that I was supposed to be studying. It all appeared as if written in chinese.

Fucking math.

I slammed it shut and flopped on my back in the middle of my room.

James hadn't left his room for over 24 hours, and the beer in the fridge had gone untouched, so in my weedless state I drank through five bottles in one night, wednesday I think. Breaking my no alcohol policy.

Two things in a few days huh?

First crying, and then getting drunk off my ass.

_This is a bad road you're going down Lucinda._ I chastised myself.

I rolled my eyes. I'd had a stressing time lately. All sorts of new strange people, all interested in me for some goddamn reason. I closed my eyes and brushed my hand across my forehead.

Who were these people anyways? My dad's... lover? Some random chick who for some god forsaken reason had another boyfriend already. Who was far younger than my father, who I found very very attractive..

I quickly smothered that train of thought, screwing my eyes tightly shut then blinking them back open. I blinked again clearing the dark spots that disappear as my resolve grew. I rose, uncomfortable with my sobriety, and grab the shoebox that had been nestled on my bookshelf for too long.

As I made my way out the back door, shovel in hand, I promised myself that I would speak to him, Gabbe's friend-boyfriend, whatever-next time I see him in school. Which seemed highly unlikely since I hadn't seen him since monday. Not one glimpse. I groaned under my breath and shoved the tip of the spade into the earth.


	12. AN

**A/N**: Hey guys, I know not many follow this story and I'm sure you're probably mad that this isn't a chapter, but I feel like this story has dug itself into a rut. so, I'm looking for a Beta to help me out with ideas and such :D So I'll be taking break from this story for the search. K?

On another thing, I've started a crossover story between Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey if you're into that. If you want then go check it out. ;) I'm quite excited about the plotline so if you would? xoxo You guys are the best.

-PadfootLives394

Ps. if you happen to be a Beta reader do you think...? Only if you want to. :)


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